Myths of the UnDead
by Leviosa7
Summary: Weeks after the Hunger Games, Katniss battles her nightmares. Before she knows it her world crumbles into a chaos more terrifying than she could have imagined. They were only myths after all, from before the Dark Days. Myths of the undead. Are they a product of the Capitol or a plague destined to decimate the Panem population? Will her family and friends survive?
1. The Nightmares

I stare into the dark eyes of the small girl I held in my arms when she took her last breath of life. Though warm and innocent in life, they were now blank and empty, as dead as her body. I hear the growls and snapping of teeth from the creature her eyes were now attatched to. Its large body extends and claws from below at the tree I have found myself trapped on. Shavings of bark fall to the ground as the mutt continuously claws its way towards me. I reach for an arrow but none find my hand. It snaps its teeth once more, sending a wave of panic through me. The scream escapes my mouth, I feel the earth shake and I'm falling...falling...

"Katniss! Katniss, wake up!

I open my eyes and see a dark figure above me, a soft hand leaving warmth on my arm. I know it's Prim that shook me awake. I instantly reach for her other hand, grasping it in my own. She wipes the damp locks of my hair away from my face shushing my panic away.

"You were screaming," she trembles, tears brimming her eyes.

"I'm fine now, Prim. Just a nightmare." If there's one thing I can't handle, it's to see my little sister cry.

"You don't have to do that," she whispers. She takes in my puzzled expression. "Lie to me," she adds. "I know you're not fine."

She's right, of course. It's been just over a week since I've been back from the Games, but I know I'm far from fine. Even in my sleep the Capitol taunts me with their games, trapping me in nightmares that I'm sure will never leave me.

She sinks into the bed next to me, wrapping me in her arms. I'm reminded of the night before the reaping when we shared a bed, only I'm not the strong one anymore. It seems like a whole lifetime ago that I protected Prim from her nightmares. The worry they must have felt, knowing I could die at any second, never returning home again. I imagined if it had been Prim...No. I'm her sister and I made sure that would never happen to her.

"Thank you, Katniss. I can never thank you enough."

"For what, Little Duck?"

"For coming home to us. I knew you would try, but I thought...I thought...I couldn't live with the guilt..." She's taking deep breaths trying to supress her tears. I immediately pull her close to me, softly shushing her.

I compose myself as my heart rate slows to normal. I can't be broken anymore. I need to be as strong as she's being for me. I sit up.

"I'm here. I made it home. I'd do anything to make sure nothing ever happens to you. I will always protect you." I lift the sheets and climb out of bed before tucking her in after me. Oh, Prim. The one person I'm certain I love. I brush my fingers through her hair for a few moments before leaning down to give her a brief kiss on her forehead.

"Go back to sleep. I need to go somewhere." She smiles and nods her head. We both know where I'm going.

I turn and descend down the stairs of my new house in the Victor's Village. Though it's not grey and shabby with everlasting coats of coal dust, its new and pristine condition leaves a sour scowl on my face. Everything from its white walls to it's orderly furnished rooms wreaks of the Capitol. Our small house in the Seam still feels like home with its single bedroom and shabby walls. The place that holds the distant memories of my father.

As my feet take me through the Victor Village, I see the early light of dusk approaching. I notice a light on in Peeta's house, from what I assume is the kitchen. He must be baking bread. I let myself wonder if maybe he is haunted with nightmares as I am. Peeta and I haven't talked since that day we came home on the train. I miss him. I pass his house and force my thoughts to pass with and continue through to the Merchant homes.

By the time I reach the Seam, my feet carry me on their own accord through a path I've traveled hundreds of times. In the cold dusk of early morning I see the old, rusted gate. I stop to listen for the quiet hum of electricity but hear silence. I lower myself to the ground and snake my way under the fence. I drift through the meadow finally feeling a small sense of liberty since the reaping. Here is safe. Here is where I can be myself and not some product of the Capitol.

When I reach the forest, I find the hallow log and take my father's bow and arrows and game bag, slinging them around my shoulder. I make my way up the small hills, comforted with my father's old hunting jacket and the place I feel solitude.

I find a big tree with thick branches and begin my climb. I relax on a branch as high as I deem safe to be and see the forest before me. The sun has begun to rise now, illuminating the sky with soft shades of yellows, pinks and everything in between. The leaves softly rustle in the morning breeze as the forest slowly comes alive with sounds. The morning birds sing all around me, surely some are mockingjays. I whistle Rue's tune and immediately hear it floating in the distance away from me. I wonder what is in the unknown beyond the trees or if it just goes on and on forever.

I stay put until the sun is shining brightly in the sky. The animals are up and roaming about now. I begin climbing lower, ready to bring in some new game for the Hawthornes and maybe take some to the Hob. I'm perched on the lowest branch, bow in my hands, aiming at the squirrel in my line of vision. I shoot and in an instant it falls, arrow straight through the eye. This time the guilt doesn't well up inside of me as it did when I was in the Games. Taking an animal's life for food and a human's life for cruel entertainment are undeniably different.

I jump down with a loud _thud_ and retrieve my arrow, putting the squirrel in my game bag. That's when I hear something unfamiliar from a close distance behind me. The erratic footsteps so unlike any animal I've encountered confuses me. I whip around, braid falling to my side. That's when I see what looks like a very torn up man. His skin is pale and sunken to his skull, his face looking gaunt. Blood is oozing down his face from what looks like sores not even my mother can heal. His clothes are torn and dirty like he hasn't bathed for months. He stumbles along aimlessly and slowly. That's when I call out to him.

He looks slightly more alive than before and his pace quickens. I hear a low moan as he approaches closer to me. There's a ripe smell of rotting that he brings with him. He's close enough that I catch his eyes and they look empty and dead. That's when I quickly back away, wondering if this is a worse fate for an outlaw than being an Avox. Without another moment of hesitation, I reach for an arrow and take aim. All sound stops when his body hits the ground.

I take cautious steps forward, keeping my bow high and ready. When I look down at the dead body lying on the ground, I feel no guilt for my actions. This man was already dead before I shot him.


	2. The Talk

**Author's Note: Thank you, Pumpkinking5 for my first ever review on this site. :D I hope you continue reading the future chapters! **

I feel the blood pulsing through my veins when the adrenaline begins rushing through me. I whip my head in all directions around me. I bend my knees until I'm just above the body. The smell overwhelms and frightens me simultaneously. It's the smell of death. I cough before bringing my arm up to block my nose.

The eyes are still open and discolored, blood oozing out from the right one where my arrow pierced it. Though his skin is pale and dull, his skin is dark. I don't imagine he lived in District 12 when he was alive. Something is...off, as though I'm trapped in the Games again. I look above searching the skies for any sign of a hovercraft with the Capitol seal on it, but none comes.

I decide to not retrieve my arrow in my haste to get as far away from the dead man as possible. Today is no longer a day for hunting. For once I want to be back inside the dingy fence of District 12, away from more death. Death seems to be like an ample cloud hovering around every day of my life, especially since the Games started. Whether in reality or in my head, it consumes my emotions, thoughts, and my entire being.

I decide I'll hunt fresh game tomorrow with Gale. He's been different and as sure as I won't ever be the same girl again, I'm not sure our friendship will ever be the same either. When I came home, first I saw the relief in his eyes but then followed the hurt. Though he has no claim over me, I still feel the guilt looming over me whenever I see him. If only he could understand that playing the star-crossed lover has ultimately saved mine and Peeta's life. His stubbornness has ensured he won't. So instead we both ignore it, leaving our little time together with mostly silence.

The one day of the week he won't be submerged into the dark mine shafts, we hunt together. His snares will help compensate for my lack of kills today. I need to provide enough for him and his family in the weeks to come before I'm shipped to every district of Panem with Peeta for our Victory Tour. The star-crossed lovers from District 12 who haven't so much as made eye contact in over a week. I roll my eyes and sigh. Maybe it will be best for Peeta and I to at least be on speaking terms to put on such a performance.

The hallow log is before me now and I stash my bow and arrows inside. When I'm through to the other side of the fence, I feel relief. I bring my kill to the Hob and trade with Greasy Sae who now smiles to me since my return.

"Not your usual," she comments in disappointment.

"No," I defend myself on habit. "I'll have more tomorrow for you." She nods her head to me before I turn to leave.

When I pass the bakery the smell of fresh bread wafts towards me. Before I can wonder if Peeta is inside, I see Mr. Mellark pulling a batch of bread from the oven. I notice newly frosted cakes displayed just behind the window. Upon them are beautiful arrangements of flowers in every color and I know it was Peeta's hands that had decorated these cakes. Mr. Mellark sees me and sends me a wave. I give a small wave of my hand back and slap on a small smile as an afterthought, remembering his promise of not letting Prim starve.

I continue my way to my new house when I hear a voice bark through the quiet air.

"Hey sweetheart!" I try to cover my initial surprise of seeing him conscious in the daylight rather than passed out drunk. He approaches me and squints his eyes to the sunlight. He looks scruffy and his hair is disheveled but at least his shirt isn't trashed with dried vomit.

"Haymitch," I say.

"Is that a proper greeting for your mentor?" There's alcohol on his breath when he speaks. I scrunch up my nose in disgust.

"Just shocked to see you're not drenched in your own vomit by now. Or passed out in that shithole you call your home."

"As charming as ever, sweetheart. Does lover boy still kiss you with that potty mouth?" He smirks at me.

A scowl forms on my face.

"What, lover's spat? Why don't you two kiss and make up already?" I begin stomping away from him with a rush of fury boiling inside of me.

I hear the rapid steps approaching close behind me. He touches my shoulder and I whip around in rage. "What?," I yell. "Don't you have a bottle to finish?"

"First, keep it down. The yelling isn't good for my hangover. And I thought I'd remind you that in a few days your prep team will be here to take the star-crossed lovers on a Victory Tour. The rest of Panem will be expecting to see a couple with hearts in their eyes and all that sickeningly cute nonsense."

"I know," I sigh. "So?"

"I've talked to the boy when he brings 'round some bread for me." I swear I see a glare in his eyes, though it may just be the hangover.

"What did he say?"

"Nothing you don't already know. He was there too, ya know. It's not just you who's scarred." He makes eye contact with me and somehow I don't think he's only talking about Peeta. Haymitch, the lone victor of District 12 before Peeta and I came along. The scars that only the winning tributes carry is something that tethers the three of us together. No wonder he's become a careless alcoholic by his age. I feel more guilt threatening to break to the surface.

"I don't think that's really the reason we're not talking," I say honestly, looking away.

"He cares about you, that boy. Can you say the same for him?"

"I don't know," I mutter stubbornly. Peeta, the boy with the bread... the Games...the berries... "It all confuses me."

"Well, you better figure it out soon, sweetheart. You might never deserve him." Though his words are harsh, I can't muster any anger. They sting of truth. I look to my feet unable to find much strength to deny it. "Fix it," he finishes. I frown to him and furrow my eyebrows together. He walks away and after a few moments I hear the slam of a door.

I swing open the front door to my house and close it when I step inside. I rush upstairs to shower and clean away the horrible events of the morning. I go downstairs and a faint chatter of conversation drifts my way. I turn the corner to the kitchen and see a plate of breads and buns sitting on the counter. I notice a small array of cheese buns assorted in.

At the table in the room beside the kitchen I see three blond heads sitting. Prim rests her hands on the table, lacing her fingers. I'm always amazed at how well the manners our mother taught us has come to Prim so naturally. My mother sits up tall, her hair tied up on her head. Finally, I see Peeta lounging in his seat. He turns his head and sees me. His blue eyes find mine and his smile slightly falters.

"Thanks again, Mrs. Everdeen. They already feel better."

"Anytime, Peeta. Those burns should sustain in no time. Remember to re-apply some to your hands tomorrow morning." She smiles to him. I notice how much more alive she seems since I've been back. Her demeanor is no longer passive and blank. Peeta apparently can charm any girl he encounters.

"And Prim, how about tomorrow afternoon you stop by the bakery?"

Her smile could light this entire room. I instantly recognize the excitement in her tone. "And I can watch you frost the cookies?"

"Better! I'll teach you how. I think some Primroses will look very pretty."

"I can't wait! Thank you, Peeta."

He waves to them and picks up what must be a homemade remedy for the burns on his hands. He nods to me when he passes by. I take a breath of courage and follow behind him. He opens the door and notices me, but I quickly close the front door behind me.

"Can- can we talk?"

"You tell me, Katniss."

I clear my throat, which seems to have gone dry in about five seconds. "Thank you," I say, looking in his general direction. "For the bread."

"You're welcome." He sends a look that I can't quite decipher.

"Were you baking this morning? I saw your light on..."

"You're not the only one who can't sleep."

"I have nightmares. Every night." His face softens at my confession and he extends his arm to touch my face. I forgot how gentle his touches are. "I miss you...Can we please be friends?"

He brings his hand back to his side and immediately I miss having him close. I don't miss the sigh that escapes his mouth. "I can try." Maybe it's the underlying edge of sadness in his voice or that look on his face, but in that moment I know that, for him, it wasn't just for the Games. It was _real_.

I can't help thinking that Haymitch is wrong because I'm certain I can't ever deserve him. There's a reason he's different from the rest of us victors. No victor is ever so gentle in touch and as selfless as Peeta is. "I still don't know what to feel."

He nods to me. "Don't let them own you, Katniss. Let me know if you ever figure it out." He then turns away and leaves. My eyes follow him until I can no longer see him. I only hope that I can ever figure it out for myself first.


	3. Encounters

I trail behind, keeping close to the tread of each of his worn hunting boots. We fall into our usual routine in the woods. He sets the snares and we begin prowling the woods to track down the wild animals that live here.

By the time that the sun is high in the sky, our game bags are nearly full. We make our rounds to each of the snare traps, gathering our extra game. His steps begin in the direction back to District 12 and that's when I stop him.

"Gale, wait..."

He arches one of his eyebrows in question. I notice how evident the lines of his handsome face has become and how worn he appears. The dark layer of coal dust grime has already stained his fingers. Like our fathers, I'm sure the coal will forever stain his skin.

"Follow me," I say as I turn away from him and begin leading us in the opposite direction. He doesn't question me or argue, he only follows. I take this as a good sign for our friendship knowing it must mean he hasn't faltered much in our mutual trust.

I try my best to take him to the area I was in yesterday morning. The dead man hasn't left my mind and I hope confiding in Gale might help clear my thoughts. Maybe he'll be able to reassure me that the man was not in fact dead.

I see the tree I was perched up on from afar. The ripe smell of death fills my nostrils immediately. The closer we get, the stronger the smell. I look over my shoulder at Gale and see that he mirrors me with his arm raised to his face, to cover the smell. If he wonders what the hell I'm doing, he doesn't say one word about it.

The dead man looks worse than when I last saw him. Small bugs float around his body and his rotted flesh looks to be peeling off his face. Gale takes in the body before his face distorts in disgust. His moment of silence is broken not long after.

"What the hell is this?" His voice is rough and I know he doesn't miss my slight jump of surprise.

"I saw him yesterday morning."

"You really did him one over, Katnip." His muscles flex when he yanks the arrow out of the eye and holds it up for my view. "Only you could shoot like that. But why'd you do it?"

"He-well, he was already like that when he found me."

"What do you mean?"

"He was limping like he was hurt. But his skin and the smell of rot, the way his eyes look empty...he was already _dead._"

"Are you sure? How is that even possible if he was still moving?" I sense the doubt in his voice. Great. Only more questions that I don't know the answers to.

"I really don't know," I sigh. "It's just what happened."

He kneels down for further inspection. I wait for him to be done before walking a few yards away atop a small hill. I flop down and cross my legs, tossing my game bag beside me. The close proximity with the smell is churning my stomach. Gale follows suit right after.

"Where did he come from?"

"Not from twelve." I shake my head. "There's so much the Capitol keeps from every district. But his skin is dark and his clothes look like farmer's." I barely put the pieces together as I spoke. I'm still uncertain but our neighboring district seems the most likely.

"You think District eleven then?"

I nod my head slowly. "All the tributes from District eleven, they have dark skin and hair and dress like him. Thresh, Rue..." I look to him and he seems convinced. "She told me that they have a fortified fence though. The electricity is always on and they're very strict. It just makes no sense." How did he end up in the forest? Did he escape? When did he die? And how? I wish I knew the answers.

"I've been hearing whispers in the mines. Since Rue and the Games, the districts are rebelling, Katniss. District eleven is one of the first to start."

"Do you think they're out of Capitol control? Is that how he ended up out here?"

"Or it's how he ended up dead," he says plainly. I see the wheels turning in his head. I make note to ask Haymitch if he knows anything when I get back.

"They must have overrun the Peacekeepers. There's no other way he could have gotten past that fence!"

He nods his head, agreeing with me. I feel more at ease to have his approval for the first time in a long time.

"We're going to rebel," he states.

I shake my head. There's no way a full rebellion will arise. Snow will put an end to it before it can even start. And I will be punished for it, or worse, my family will. I open my mouth to dispute, but he cuts over me before I can start.

"It's going to happen! We just need to wait for the right time." And he's off on a rant of the injustice of the Capitol and the treatment of the districts. How I'm the reason for the spark of the rebellion...

"Gale! I don't want to be the reason we'll all be punished. If this happens, what will Snow do to them? What will happen to Prim?" My voice is shaken by this point and my breathing spastic. He grips my shoulder and squeezes. I feel comfort in his touch, but it lacks the gentleness of Peeta's.

"She'll be fine because we're going to win."

My voice is soft and weak now when I mutter under my breath, "I don't want any more blood on my conscious."

We sit in silence for how long, I'm unsure. That's when we hear the _snap _of twigs breaking. The footsteps are erratic again. My hands immediately reach for my bow. We both stand and Gale hands over the used arrow. I line it up and take my aim before he holds his hand in front of me. "Not yet," he says.

The girl's deteriorating skin is dark and she looks young. An incomprehensible moan escapes her mouth where blood is spilling down the sides. Her ankle looks twisted and broken, like she fell on it from a tall height. Gale approaches her closer and all traces of doubt leaves his face. He shifts his body slightly to face me.

Her arms extends outward hungrily, her moaning breaking my hesitation. Gale doesn't seem to notice.

"She really is dead. She looks-"

My arrow shoots into her head and she drops to the ground, motionless. I grip my bow more tightly in my hands, making a full circle. Gale does the same, but there's no other people..dead people...walking. The thought of more of them terrifies me.

"Don't get near them," I whisper harshly. "I think they're dangerous."

He considers this before shrugging his shoulders. "How dangerous can they be? They're dead."

"Quiet," I scold. "How many dead people do you see moving around?" He shakes his head. "Exactly my point." I'm reminded of the vicious mutts in the arena. The Capitol doesn't shy away from mutations.

"This isn't right. That girl...remember last year in the arena?" I nod my head and he continues. "The girl tribute from eleven. She died before she even got out of the Cornucopia. I think it's her."

Before I can consider this I hear a blood curling scream in the air. Gale run towards the sound and I chase after him. I come to a sudden stop and fall into Gale. When I look up I see the white uniform of two Peacekeepers.


	4. The Rebels

**Author's Note: Thanks, Pumpkinking5. I like reading your thoughts and reactions to each chapter! There's plenty more to come. :)**

**SelenaNina, thank you! haha I've been wanting to see a story like this pop up in the Hunger Games fandom, so I just wrote one instead. As requested, this one is about twice as long and there will be plenty more of the undead to come. **

My head clouds as panic sweeps through me. I feel like my feet are traveling faster than my brain can keep up with. I feel the cool surface of the arrow as I perch it against my bow, ready to release it at the smallest movement.

"Katniss..." I glance at Gale for only a moment before returning my attention to the Peacekeepers. The smaller one's clothes hang loosely against her frame. She looks young, maybe my age. Her hair sticks to her skin and she looks pale and unhealthy. She leans against the other, arm draped over her shoulder. The older woman supports her weight as she clings to the girl. Her breathing is labored and small beads of sweat cleans the dirt on her face. I see her drop the Peackeeper gun and raise her free hand in surrender. I notice the desperation in her eyes when they dart back and forth between me and the area in the forest to the left.

I follow her eyes and spot another stumbling body approaching close behind the girls. There's a moist darkness of blood soaking the back of his hair as if he's been violently pushed down. I look to Gale who notices too. That's when I raise my bow higher and the woman closes her eyes. I release my arrow and the woman pops them back open when the body crashes to the ground behind her.

"We're not Peacekeepers."

"Then who are you?," Gale snarls.

"We're from District eight."

The low moans fill my ears. There's several sets of wandering stomps surrounding us. They must be attracted to sounds like animals. We're too exposed. Gale's voice begins again but I pay no attention to his words.

"We can't do this here," I hiss at them. I take in my surroundings and know we're not far. "Follow me," I say. "And _hurry_."

Gale takes the younger girl and wraps his arm around her, keeping close behind me. The other woman grabs the gun before trailing along after us. The small wooden cabin emerges between the trees and I lead us in before quickly closing the door behind me. Gale sits her down against the wall.

"Who are you?," I question the woman, setting my bow to the floor.

"I'm Twill and she's Bonnie."

"Why are you out here?"

The young girl named Bonnie flashes a small piece of bread with a mockingjay imprinted on it. "There's been an uprising in eight," she says. She extends her legs in front of her and hitches her breath in pain as she repositions herself. I notice dried blood by the wrist of her long sleeve.

"We overpowered the Peacekeepers." She tells us of how they had been planning since before the Games had ended. Twill had been a teacher at the school and worked in the factory at night and Bonnie had been her pupil. They communicated in the loud noises of the factories. With their large population they were able to overcome the Peacekeepers.

Twill then begins telling of how she and her husband had planned to escape. She would gather enough fabrics for two Peacekeeper uniforms over time. She was careful to only sneak enough to go unnoticed-a shirt here, a pair of pants there. Then more Peacekeepers arrived from the Capitol hovercrafts. District 8 went into lock down. The citizens stayed huddled in their homes and the factories closed down. Soon enough they were to proceed with working in the factories.

"That day," Twill whispers, "Bonnie and I got caught up at the school. We were making our way to the factory when we saw another hovercraft land right before the factory. The Peacekeepers set off a small bomb to blow off the entire wall of the building. It probably killed half of them.

"The hovercraft doors opened and dozens of bodies were dropped to the ground. The Peacekeepers boarded the hovercraft and it left. We thought they were dead. But then they all stumbled up and started moving toward the factory..." Twill trails off, her eyes glazing over.

Bonnie now speaks up in a small, shaky voice. "We heard the screams first. It was chaos. Whoever survived the bomb were running around, trying to escape. That's when we saw those, those.._things-_dead people- killing anyone alive. They were _eating_ them."

She's shaking her head violently, inhaling deeply with every breath. Her shoulders are shaking and Twill quickly slides down the wall next to her, taking Bonnie's hands in her own.

"There was no stopping them!," Twill squeaks. "We saw people attacking the things with whatever they could get their hands on. I even saw one man stab the thing at least four times, but it kept coming...

"My husband, Bonnie's family...they were all in there when it happened. We decided to take our chances when the screaming stopped."

My stomach was churning. What little food I had consumed in the morning was threatening to come up now. Dead people killing, _eating_ other people? That was too grotesque to fully comprehend. Is this the fate of any district to rebel against the Capitol? Who could be so cruel? Images of the arena flash in my mind. Innocent children being forced to kill one another...74 years worth of dead tributes...

"What did the dead people from the hovercraft look like?," I ask with all the gentleness I can manage.

Bonnie's eyes search the skies and she bites her lip. "Kids," she croaks. "My age and some were younger." Her skin is paling and dark circles are becoming more evident under her eyes.

The thought of Snow keeping the dead tributes from the games and somehow making them come back to life to kill. It is sick. But why not just kill them all quickly if that's his intention? What sort of games is he playing?

"Are you hungry?," I ask. They both nod their heads.

I look to Gale and point to the door. I swing it open and take in my surroundings before stepping out. I walk a few paces and begin collecting pine needles to brew for tea. It doesn't take long for Gale to speak.

"Why not just bomb them all dead? Why like that?"

I shake my head just as confused as he is. "I don't know. But there has to be a reason if Snow did it."

A horrible imagine of little Rue, her dead corpse roaming around, but somehow still alive, and programmed to kill. My fists clench together around the pine needles and my body begins to shake. I want to scream at the top of my lungs. All I can feel is hatred. Hatred for Snow, for the Games, for what they've done to me. I begin pacing back and forth.

"Katnip..." He places both hands on my shoulders to steady me. One slides up to my cheek and he tilts my head upwards so we make eye contact. There's a softness in his eyes that I've never seen before. The way his thumb brushes back and forth against my cheek is more intimate than we've ever been. He looks like he wants to say something but he stays silent.

He's leans in closer to me and I can feel the warmth of his breath on my face. I drop his gaze and slightly back away from his touch. His eyes drop to his feet and his face hardens.

"I'll build a fire inside if you skin for some meat," I say before walking to the door.

I start the fire and empty the water from my game bag into a small pot in the corner. Gale has situated himself in the corner, knife in hand and skinning one of my kills. Twill hugs Bonnie close, running her fingers through the girl's tangled hair.

When the tea is ready I pass some to both Bonnie and Twill. I hold one to Gale but he refuses to take it. I sigh and flop myself down in front of the girls. Bonnie seems to be in and out of consciousness.

"What happened to her?"

"We had been traveling through the forest for a few days. People of my district, we're not familiar with nature. There's barely grass. So we got lost in the woods.

"I think we were near District 11 because we saw a big fence through the tree. I remember Rue told you about it...

"Well we didn't want to get caught so we started in the other direction and that's when we heard an explosion."

"From eleven?"

She nods her head and continues. "There was rocks and things flying everywhere. I think it must have been the Justice building. We ran as fast we could. Then there was another one, closer to us. The whole fence was blown apart. We fell back and she twisted her ankle."

"They were rebelling, too. They must have done the same to eleven. I've been seeing the dead people in the woods. I think they're from eleven."

Gale is roasting the meat on the fire now. Within a few minutes he announces that it's done. I divide it between Twill and Bonnie and bring it to them. Twill asks if it's all for her and her eyes light up when I nod my head. The smell awakens Bonnie and I know that some districts might have it just as bad as twelve does. I try to imagine a world where we don't all "starve in safety." A world without the Games, or poverty, or these dead people becoming a new threat.

Gale squats down to his feet and looks to Twill as she finishes. Bonnie has barely touched hers, but not without trying. "Where are you headed?," he asks.

"District 13."

"There is no District 13," I pipe in. "It's demolished. We all see the footage."

"Yes, 74 years ago," she states. "Every year they show the same footage of the district. Just at the end, you see the same mockingjay wing at the corner." This seems like such little to go off of. Why would they go back every year when nothing changes anyway?

"The Capitol would never allow a District to be out of their control all these years."

"Maybe not. But maybe they had no choice," she disputes.

"If 13 does still exist then why haven't they helped us?"

"I don't know. But maybe we'll find out."

The possibility of a district 13, free from the Capitol rule and ignoring the rest of us while we starve disturbs me. Having them shy away passively while the kids of Panem are sentenced to death every year. The more I think about it, the less likely it seems a District 13 exists.

Gale moves towards Bonnie, who's sheet-white face looks to have fallen asleep. He presses the backside of his hand to her forehead and cheeks.

"She's burning up," he mutters.

Sadness etches on Twill's face. She looks solemn. "She's been sick since last night."

"Did something happen?," he asks her.

"Late last night, Bonnie woke me up because she thought she heard something. It was so dark we couldn't see anything. But then I heard the moaning. I help Bonnie up, but with her ankle, we're slow. Before we even realized it, one of those things bit her! Right on her wrist. I think we got the bleeding to stop though."

Gale and I look to each other. "Do you think we could sneak her to my mom? She needs help," I whisper.

Before he can answer, Bonnie slowly opens her eyes. She doesn't speak and sits completely still. Her body is so still, I'm not even sure she can be breathing. She groans from what must be pain and her mouth is clenching. If she's trying to speak I can't make out any words. Twill releases her in a hurry, as if an electric jolt has gone through her body.

"Her skin is cold." She sounds frightened. Before anyone can react, Bonnie grips Twill tightly in her hands and pulls her closer. I just notice the same glazed and blank expression in her eyes. A low growl escapes her mouth. I shout to Twill, leaping to pull her away, but all sound is drowned by Twill's scream.

Gale grabs Bonnie by the arms from behind and holds her there. She thrashes around fiercely. Twill is hunched over crying and screaming. She presses both hands to the side of her neck. Blood spills out between the empty space between her fingers. I'm throwing off my father's hunting jacket and pulling off my shirt. Through my shaking fingers, I tear at the fabric of my top and it rips along the stitches. I fold up one half and pry Twill's hands away from her neck. I press it firmly against the wound and use the other half to tie it in place. Twill's hands find their way back to her neck against the fabric.

I hear a loud _thump_ and see Gale running to my bow. Bonnie's body looks broken on the floor in the corner. Through her loud moaning, she clumsily picks herself back up and begins shambling towards us. Gale pulls the bow near his face, arrow in hand, and releases it. Spots of blood flies to Gale's face. There's another bang as Bonnie's head slams into the wall and she slides to the floor, dead.

I feel like I've sprinted a mile though I've barely moved. I yank my hunting jacket back onto my frame. My heart feels like it might literally pound out of my chest. How did Bonnie become one of them? Is it because she was bitten? Or did she die? Maybe it was both?

Gale is in front of Twill now. The fabric on her neck is already soaked through with the red of her blood. "Do you think you can make it back to 12 with us?"

I hear loud groans surrounding outside the cabin. Hands are banging and scratching against the door and walls.

"No," Twill cries. Her skin is paper white and I'm afraid she's losing too much blood already. Even if we run, the fence is near an hour away.

"Leave me here," she pleads. She coughs loudly and spits down to the floor, traces of blood falling with it. I grip her hand in my own. "Please." A horrible gargle escapes her throat and blood spills from the sides of her lips. Her hand slackens in mine and her head falls back. I see the light leave her eyes as she chokes on her own blood.


	5. Something Isn't Right

**Author's Note: Thank you so much for the reviews. I can't tell you how much it encourages me. There's plenty more to come so please keep reading! Let me know what you think. :)**

All time seems to stand still. The panic that surges through me numbs my body as I sit there, motionless. My brain fuzzes and coherent thought that might urge me to move leaves. It's like the cabin shrinks until the walls closes in on me and suffocates all the air from my lungs. My eyes can't see except the small splatters of blood puddling on the floor. I hear a low voice but it feels distant and muffled. All I can think is that I am Katniss Everdeen, girl on fire, victor, hunter, and I could not save them.

Rough hands are on my shoulders, shaking my body back and forth. The hands are pulling me up until I am forced on my feet. I am spun around and before me are the gray eyes I know to be Gale's. His lips are moving and though I can't hear his words I see my name leave his lips. A loud thud creeps into my ears from behind me. There 's a sensation of tingling that rushes from my head. That's when I hear the horrors from outside growing louder.

"Katniss, we need to move. Now!" There's an urgent fear in his voice that I've never heard before.

I turn to look down at the dead bodies of Bonnie and Twill and take a sharp inhale of breath. No, I can't let their deaths consume me now. I look to Gale instead who is tossing the game bag over her shoulders, knife in hand.

"How do we get out of here?," I whisper.

He furrows his eyebrows and clenches his jaw tight. He moves towards the dusted window and peeks out.

I walk the few paces towards the bodies to retrieve my bow from the floor. A few arrows had scattered across the floor in a small pile. My knees bend and I'm hastily tossing the arrows together. The scratching and pounding against the worn wood seems to be increasing. The room feels like it's spinning beneath my feet.

The shatter of glass pierces my ears. I spin around and see Gale slam to the ground, hands covering his head. Shards of glass fall to the floor all around us. I see pale, deteriorating hands reaching inside. The sound of Gale's boots stomps about the room, rapidly in a panic. I see his knife in his hands as he grips an old pot in the other.

"Katniss, when I say open the door and run if it's safe," he screeches. He looks to me for a split second. "But-" "Now's not the time to argue. I'll be right after you."

There's not much time to consider other options. More bodies are descending towards the broken window now, threatening to shatter the entirety of it. The thuds and clawing at the door sounds to have ceased, but I can't be sure. I take in Gale, where a look of panic but reassurance passes over his face. It's a look I've only seen the day of the reaping. "_Do I trust him?_," I ask myself. I only nod my head to him.

I walk closer to the door, keeping my eyes on him for his signal. I inhale deeply, preparing myself. Suddenly a hand grips my ankle over my boot, pulling at me. I think I might actually suffocate when the wind knocks out of me. I fall straight forward as my feet sweep from under me. I slam hard to the floor, landing head first. An intense pressure surges through my head as pain wells up in my nose. Drops of blood splatter to the floor while my nose gushes out blood.

I slide across the floor briefly before I realize that it's Twill's hands that are pulling me towards her hungry mouth. My feet kick and thrash around until I'm finally free of her grasp. I flip myself around, seeing her hands outstretched, reaching for me again. She's crawling forward and I tumble backwards, small shards of glass cutting my hands.

Gale is holding his game back in front of him, arms outstretched. He leans forward and I see more hands gripping and grabbing, trying to overpower him. Even if he has heard the commotion he can't help me if we both plan to walk out of here alive.

Twill latches onto my boot so tightly that I can't shake her off. I try to force her away with my feet but somehow she's clawing her way up my leg. Her mouth is open and horrible, vicious growls bursts from her. She leaves a small trail of blood up my pant leg that leaks from her open mouth. All I can manage to do is hold her from close contact to my flesh.

She is closer to me now hovering above my body. I latch my hands onto her shoulders holding her at arms length above me. She writhes around uncontrollably. She inches her way closer to my body. My arms are lightly shaking, my muscles threatening to give out. I groan and grind my teeth, dragging my knee up between us to steady her. I imagine Snow would be chuckling to himself in amusement if he could see me now...

I fight his face from my thoughts. Prim's face flashes in my mind, smiling her innocent smile. I hear the small laugh, the only laugh that can lighten my mood. The one person I always promised to fight for. How she must be with Peeta right now learning to frost from the very person who's cakes she greatly admires. How she'll be waiting to show me...And Peeta, never receiving an answer from me.

There's something bubbling inside of me and whether it's strength or fury I don't know. One of my arms stretches out searching the floor. Finally my hands feel the smooth surface of one of my arrows. I grip it in my hand and crash it to her head.

In an instant all I hold is deadweight above me. I roll her off of me, pushing her to the floor where there's no traces on her face of the human being I had met.

Gale is shouting. "Go!"

I pick myself up, holding my bow and arrows close to me. Through the corner of my eye I see the white Peacekeeper gun that Bonnie had. I make sure to grab it on my way out. I fling the door open and hear clanking coming from inside. I see Gale who has the pot in his hand once more, pounding it to the windowsill. His feet are planted to the floor, but I hear them dragging backwards.

"Now!"

My feet fly across the rough terrain of the forest. I sprint until I hitch over from a pain in my side. My body is sleek and moist with sweat. I struggle to control my breathing. I search for any sign on Gale behind me. I wonder if it was my fear or desperation to see Prim that has forced me to come so close to home without waiting for him to be by my side.

I backtrack and keep my eyes open. I try to climb a tree to get a greater view, but with the cuts on my hands I know it will be in vain. I try to force my worried fears far from my mind. Tears sting my eyes but not from pain. What if I left him to die? How could I live with myself?

I lean against a tree and let my head fall back against the bark. Despite every sense in my brain telling me no, I let my eyelids close. That's when I feel a pair of hands upon me. I shrug them off violently on instinct.

That's when I see Gale. I fling my arms around him. The relief washes over me and I relax into his embrace.

"You're okay?," I question. "I thought-"

"C'mon." He tugs my arm forward. "They'll catch up if we stop." I stay beside him until the old fence comes into our view.

He tosses his game bag over the fence as we come closer, along with his knife and the Peacekeeper gun from my hands. I toss my bow as gently as I can and it lands atop the game bag. He throws himself to the ground. There's a soft hum that roots me to the spot. The fence is alive with electricity.

"Gale, listen," I say. He still for a moment and then rises to his feet. He flings his hands to his hair, tugging the dark locks. He spins on the spot cursing under his breath words that I'm sure would have his mother scolding him.

The only way I can think is to climb the closest tree to the fence and jump down over it. I fear my hands might not be capable of hoisting myself up but really, what other choices do we have? I relay the information to him.

He's lifting me up, holding the majority of my weight. Though every moment against the rough bark stings my hands, I force myself to move forward. Gale climbs up after me, his heavier weight slowing him down. He struggles more than I do from lack of coordination.

I inch my way to as far to the edge that won't break under my weight. I peer down and take a deep breath. It looks maybe 15 feet high, but I know the fall will be farther than I can judge.

I lower myself so I'm hanging by hands and let go. There's an unpleasant sensation and it feels like my stomach has jolted right up to my throat. My feet slam hard into the ground. I stifle my yelp of pain and fall back, gripping my foot. I'm not sure I'll be able to walk.

Gale lands close to me and I see him roll over the instant his feet hit the ground. He releases a grunt and inhales sharply but otherwise seems to be okay. He begins collecting our thrown items and places the arrows on my shoulder and bow in my hands.

He wraps his arm around my waist and half carries me and I wobble and hop on my good foot away from the fence. We're lucky that the sun is setting low in the sky. We might stand a chance of sneaking into town unnoticed. Surely with my bow and a full game bag, Peacekeeper gun in hand, we'd be publicly whipped then sentenced to death for conspiracies of rebellion. I'm sure Snow would want to make a special example of me.

We stash the gun, my bow and arrows, and his game bag in my old house on the outskirts of the Seam. We continue out way into town cautiously. As we approach the town Center, I realize that something is odd.

We have not seen one Peacekeeper on our journey through town. Not one white uniform in sight. Though I should just consider it luck, it doesn't sit well with me.

Gale leads me through the Merchant area. "We need to get you to your mom," he says. But I won't have any of it, insisting that I'm fine. I need to get Prim and figure out what the hell is going on and what we're going to do.

Prim...Primroses...cookies...Peeta...The bakery. That's where I need to go first. I direct Gale to turn us in the other direction.

"No way, Katniss. We need to get you fixed up," he says defiantly.

I look him up and down and bring my arm from around him. I'm unsteady and off balance on my one good foot, but I won't back down. "I need to get Prim first. I won't go anywhere until I know she's okay."

He sighs heavily and helps me towards the bakery. We walk in silence. We both have a silent understanding of avoiding the dead that are just beyond the fence. There's no need to discuss it, not now.

"So how do you know Prim is there?"

"I just do," I tell him. He looks at me expecting more. "Prim mentioned they were going to frost some cookies," I add. Well, it's really not much of a lie if I just overheard.

"What's going on with you and him?," he spits out.

"Nothing," I say instantly. He looks unconvinced. This is not a conversation I want to have now, or ever really. Any sort of relationship or friendship, feelings or non-feelings conspiring between Peeta and I somehow feels wrong to discuss with Gale.

"I thought we were past lying to each other." My mouth can't form any words. Was I lying? I haven't really considered it. I just want to get back to my old self, before the Games.

He seems to take my silence as confirmation. "What the hell. I don't get you anymore. You tell me you don't ever want a relationship or marriage, nothing. Then I watch as day by day your mouths are attached together every second. You claiming your undying _love_ for each other." He keeps his voice steady but strong, yet I can sense the anger bubbling beneath the surface.

"You weren't there!," I retort. "You don't understand."

"So there _is_ something with him." He states it plainly, like a fact.

"You said yourself, all they want is a show." And now he and I are in deep shit. At least _I_ am. We're to be getting engaged and I'll be married because of the Games. My life has spiraled into everything I didn't want it to become.

"It's not a show for him," he states. Had everyone figured that out except for me?

"Maybe not," I admit. I really wish the ground would just swallow me up right now.

"How about for you, Katniss?" He has stopped us now, a block away from the bakery, and searches my eyes for answer. I look away.

"I don't know," I say to my feet. "I can't let that be my life. I don't want it."

"Notice how you didn't deny it."

My frustration of the situation builds more inside of me. Doesn't he know I care about him? That I trust him unconditionally? Isn't that enough?

"Why can't we go back to the way things were? Just me and you hunting in the-"

He has his hands on my face, pressing his lips against mine. I don't back away but I don't respond or move as shock consumes my body. He presses our lips together more firmly and I feel the heat radiating off his body. It's not unpleasant but somehow feels wrong...like betrayal.

"Gale, I can't." I break us apart, feeling my cheeks flush. "I love you, but I can't. Not in this way."

"But for _him_ you can?" His brows furrow together leaving a crease in the middle. His voice is rougher than it's been the whole conversation.

"I don't want to love anyone like that."

I begin stumbling my way forward, shaking him off when Gale tries to assist me. He sulks behind me silently fuming. He really wouldn't have a problem making any girl he wants fall for him. He's handsome, strong and protective who can easily provide for a family. I wonder if he even knows it himself.

I see the bakery coming into my view. The block I half walk, half hop here really has taken it out of me. The whole day feels to be rushing back to me, taking every ounce of energy I have left. Peeta's blond hair is visible through the window. I see another head of blond hair standing right next to him.

My pace picks up at the sight of them. When I reach the door, I push it open and hear a bell ring from just above the doorpost. They both turn their heads and a bright smile forms on Prim's face. Peeta's face contorts into concern. Prim's follows suit soon after.

"Katniss, what _happened_?," Prim asks.

"What do you-"

"There's dry blood on your face. You look like you did when..." Peeta trails off, moving towards me.

I must look a mess. I don't know how I could have forgotten. My hair has probably fallen out of its braid, I was tumbling around the floor, the glass that cut my hands, all the running...

I hear the bell ring again and see Gale stalk inside and lean his shoulder against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. He looks like a different person as he sends glares Peeta's way.

"I'm okay Prim. Promise." I try my best to form a smile, but I'm afraid it looks more like a grimace from the look on her face.

"Let's get you guys cleaned up," Peeta says. He reaches his hand out to me and my hand instinctively reaches out to take it. His hand is soft against my rough, callused one. He gives it a gentle squeeze but I don't allow my feet to move.

"Don't worry, she's not here." Right. His mother. I don't think I can handle another complication today.

He gives me a questioning look, clearly wanting to know what happened today. I try to convey that I'll tell him later. I see his father moving around in the back where the kitchen is. He smiles as we pass. Peeta nods at me and guides me up the stairs to where his family lives above the shop. Having the majority of my weight on him instantly releases most of the pain on my throbbing foot. Prim follows right on my heels and Gale reluctantly follows behind.

He leads me to the small bathroom in the corner of the hallway. The room is simple and old, but well kept and clean. I turn the faucet of the sink and rinse the grime away from my face. I see the water turn a grayish color with flecks of red that I know to be my blood. Prim unfastens the loose end of my braid and runs her fingers through the knots when I sit on the edge of the bathtub.

"What would I do without you?," I ask her. My tone is lighter and not weighted with anger or emotion. It must be the first time I genuinely smiled all day. My fingers begin braiding my hair.

She giggles and tells me about watching Peeta bake the cookies. He calls her his "happy helper" and let her mix the ingredients. They frosted the cookies and she boasts about Peeta's beautiful primroses. They've been eating them and she swears she's never had anything as sweet.

"You have to see them! We saved you some," she finishes.

"Yours are the most pretty," Peeta says to her. I see a hint of a blush in her cheeks. Peeta Mellark confuses me more than anyone else. Or rather, he confuses all the emotions I carefully learned to hide inside of me all these years. He's bonding with my sister and that's one thing I'm helplessly weak against. I know I can't keep him at an arm's length for long.

Gale hasn't said one word the entire time and hovers at the doorway. Peeta approaches him.

"You're welcome to clean up too if you want."

"No, Mellark," he says coldly. "Not all of us need your help." Gale looks at me briefly during his last words.

"Oh. Alright then." Peeta brushes past him and walks to the stairs. Prim and I instantly follow and I make sure to send a glare at Gale when I pass him.

"I was just about to walk Prim home anyway. Looks like you should see your mom," he says when we reach the bottom of the stairs. He bags up the cookies and bids his dad goodbye.

Peeta holds open the door for all of us as we pass. Dusk is in the sky now, the last rays of sunlight descending into the horizon. I begin limping and Prim rushes to my side to balance me but with her small frame she struggles to support me. Peeta wraps his arm around my waist and we make our way towards the Victor Villiage. With my waddle and Peeta still adjusting to his prosthetic, we must look like a broken pair. Like in the Games...Gale looks to be turning around towards the Seam.

"Gale...," I say carefully. "I think we need to talk to Haymitch."

He raises his eyebrows at me. "_Together_," I add. The curiosity must get the better of him because he doesn't leave. If there's one more conversation I want to have today, it's to see if there's anything Haymitch knows.

My house comes into view and Prim quickly rushes to the door and swings it open. I nearly lose balance and bring both Peeta and I tumbling down at the sight of Haymitch waiting on my couch.


	6. The Quarter Quell

**Author's Note: Thank you to Pumpkinking5 once again for being a loyal reviewer. :) **

Haymitch lounges casually on the couch, one arm drapes across the top with his right leg resting crossed atop his outstretched left. My mother carefully tiptoes towards him from the kitchen balancing one mug full, of what smells like tea, in each hand. She sets one gently down on the coffee table in front of Haymitch, to which he offers a small smile, and takes a seat at the opposite end of the couch.

Prim glides towards our mother and bounces herself onto the couch next to her before resting her chin against our mother's arm. Our mother, looking as delicate and lovely as Prim in that moment, offers a "hello" and smile to us while we hover in the doorway.

Haymitch lifts the steaming mug to his lips and sets it back down on the table. I'm surprised to see that he has yet to reach inside his coat pocket where his flask usually stays and add some to the mug. Being sober at this time of day must be a difficult feat for him.

"Welcome home, sweetheart," he drawls out in an annoying smug voice. "Lover boy and the _cousin_." He nods to each of them in turn.

From Haymitch's crooked smirk, I know the three of us must share similar looks on our faces. Peeta glances at me with a look of slight irritation playing upon his features. He doesn't bother to hide his stony expression or narrowed eyes. His eyebrows raise high up his forehead where small creases form, as if to say, '_will he ever stop?_' Gale looks like the scowl will never leave his face now.

I try my best to hide my irritation but his chuckle reminds me I'm not the best actress.

"Innocent doesn't suit you much," he says to me.

I decide to stifle my sarcastic retort. "I really need to talk to you," I say instead.

I try to detach myself from Peeta's hold, but he wraps his hold more firmly to my resistance. I limp my way forward swallowing pride with each step that he helps me move.

"Katniss, how did you hurt yourself?," my mother asks as she rises from her seat. There's an edge of concern in her voice completely foreign to me that I don't know how to take it.

"Landed on it wrong," I grumble.

She nods in understanding as Peeta sits me down on the chair beside the couch. He lifts my injured foot up and places a pillow on the edge of the table before laying my foot on it. I let my eyelids close briefly as relief flows through me like a wave. The cushion is soft and comfortable underneath my weight. Maybe because it's the first time I feel I can truly rest from the events of the day, but my body sinks into the cushions until I feel like a deadweight. Every limb of my body aches. I barely notice my mother kneeling in front where she inspects my foot.

"You'll need to stay off it for a while," she says despite my exasperated expression I know must show on my face. "I'll see what I can gather to help the pain," she adds. She makes a silent gesture to Prim and she follows after her into the other room and out of ear range.

"Like I was saying, Gale and I-"

"Look here, you two," he barks. "There's some serious business we need to discuss."

Peeta flops down onto the couch where Prim was before and releases a sigh. We share a look, the faintest hint of a smile playing on our lips. There's a small gush of warmth that surges through me that reminds me of the days isolated in the heat of the cave. I immediately dismiss the feeling before I can think on it.

Gale's game bag hits the floor with a thud as he sits himself down on the chair across from me. He looks nearly as exhausted as I feel. Haymitch looks him over hesitantly before whipping his head in the direction of Peeta and I.

"What is it now?," Peeta asks nonchalantly.

"Did I do something wrong?," I spill out right after him.

"One at a time," he grunts. "It's about the Victory Tour."

Peeta straightens his back and turns towards him, attentive. "What about it?"

"There won't be one."

"But-"

"Why would-"

"Now, listen here," Haymitch cuts us off sternly. He leans forward and places his elbows on his knees. He stays silent for a few moments as if searching for words. "It's been canceled. Seems the star-crossed lovers has backfired against the Capitol."

I think of my ignoring Peeta since we've been home. How seemingly unconvincing I know I am. Surely I've failed both of us. Snow must see right through me. My heart sinks low into the pits of my stomach until I feel hallow and as icy as I act.

"Now there's no use placing blame," Haymitch says towards me. "Snow was furious the moment both of you survived. You give the districts too much hope."

"But isn't that a good thing?," Peeta blurts out.

"Not for the Capitol," Gale says quietly, speaking for the first time.

"He's right," Haymitch confirms. "What's the whole reason we have the games? To keep the districts in line. To boast their power over everyone. They don't take lightly to people who outsmart them at their own games." There's a hardness to his face, almost like anguish. I wonder if Haymitch was always drunk and careless or if the Games made him that way...

"So they think we'll make it worse during the Victory Tour?"

"In a sense, yes. But the districts are already rebelling."

My ears perk up a little as curiosity consumes me. So Bonnie and Twill were right. I can't hold onto any shred of doubt anymore. My heart starts pounding out of my ears and it feels like small insects are fluttering around in my stomach. I don't know if the confirmation fears me or excites me. Gale leans forward in his chair, suddenly taking an interest in the conversation. Peeta slumps down against the cushions looking worried. I hear a rapid tapping of shoe against the floor coming from his direction.

"So what happens next for us?," I ask.

"We can't be sure," he says slowly. "But you realize the Games didn't just end when you got home?"

I feel myself shake my head in confusion and Peeta mirrors me.

"Well, of course for the Victory Tour..." I trail off.

"No, especially you two. The Games don't ever end, not for a victor. The Capitol owns you the rest of your life. Threatens everything that's important to you. Keeps ya in line, so to speak.

"But now," he continues, "no Victory Tour. Snow feels you're responsible for the districts stepping out of line. Particularly you Mockingjay."

"She's not responsible for the Capitol's treatment of the districts!" Peeta rises to his feet. I look up and catch his eyes. '_It's okay_,' I try to convey to him.

"Good to know she brings out the fighter in you. You're gonna need it. Now sit down and listen," Haymitch's gruff voice seems to soften slightly. Peeta reluctantly obeys.

"We can't forget who the enemy is. It was only a matter of time this happened. The hostility has been building..."

"This is a good thing, isn't it?" Gale asks Haymitch. "We finally have a chance to fight!"

"I've been talking with some important people the past few days. We just need to wait until the right time. Timing is key."

"So we'll rebel? It's not just talk," Gale states, a triumphant smile plays on his lips.

"That's the plan. But there might be complications."

"Like...?"

Haymitch now turns back in the direction of Peeta and me. "I think there's another reason the Victory Tour was canceled. I think they want to make sure you two stay put. Keep tabs on you."

"Without Peacekeepers?," I ask, suddenly remembering the streets empty of Capitol workers.

"What are you on about, girl?"

"When Gale and I were coming back there were no Peacekeepers. It felt weird, but I'm sure I didn't see one..."

"You know, I haven't seen one either today," Peeta adds.

Haymitch looks deep in thought and the silence rings in the room taunting me like a ghost. I know I need to tell Haymitch about the dead people just outside the district, threatening our safety. Now all I can wonder is where the Peacekeepers have gone. What does Snow have planned?

Anger is burning through me like a fire, vicious and wild. I'm sure if someone was to touch me they'd burn from the heat radiating off my skin. I force the dry lump in my throat away but it still feels itchy and hoarse when I begin to speak.

"Out in the woods there's dead people," I state flatly.

Haymitch's head shoots up so fast I think he might have a head rush. Peeta looks concerned while Gale gestures for me to continue.

"You shouldn't be in the woods with Snow so _interested _in you," Haymitch snaps at me. I ignore him.

"But they were moving and _alive._ Well not alive, more like walking corpses. Nearly killed me and Gale. And Bonnie and Twill..."

I stop talking as my voice threatens to crack. I can't just talk about it so casually. Two girls, desperate like I would be, died right in front of my eyes in a way so gruesome and terrifying it makes my stomach churn. As if that isn't twisted enough, they come back alive and attack us like we're no more than a piece of meat.

"Who?," Haymitch asks as his eyes dart between Gale and I.

"Two girls from eight," Gale answers. "Said there was an uprising then the Peacekeepers left and dropped off dead bodies that attacked everyone. They made it to the woods and were in bad shape when we found 'em."

Haymitch pops out of his seat like it suddenly burned him. He begins pacing so aggressively I wonder if he'll leave a hole in the carpet. He mutters under his breath that mostly sounds incoherent but I think I make out words like 'eight' and 'dead people.'

"Where are they now?"

"They died. But not before saying they heard bombs being dropped in eleven. Blew up the whole fence."

"Eight and eleven," Haymitch says to no one in particular. "Makes sense."

"How did they die?," Peeta asks softly.

I look at him and the sadness on his face somehow fills me with the strength to speak again.

"Bonnie was bitten by one of the dead people. She looked real sick when we found them. Then she passed out and attacked Twill, bit her neck. And she-well...well, she died. Then she came back and attacked me."

Peeta's face pales and he fumbles with his fingers. He bites his lip as he runs his hands through his hair. Gale's eyes bore into mine. Though I can tell he's impatient, his sturdy demeanor is oddly reassuring.

"What does it mean, Haymitch?," I ask, becoming impatient and weary from his silence.

"No, it can't be," Haymitch mutters to himself. "Makes no sense."

"What, Haymitch?!" Peeta and I speak together.

"It's suspicious. I don't know facts only rumors. Sounds like something the Capitol had planned for a while. You sure they were dead?," He asks me roughly.

"Yes," I say sternly. "We're almost positive they were mostly dead tributes. Gale recognized the girl from eleven last year."

"Do you know something?," Gale asks.

He shakes his head violently while his hair whips back and forth, slapping against his face. "They were interested in stories from before the dark days. Walking corpses coming back to life to eat people. I think they were only old folk tales of sorts. For entertainment-movies, television shows, books..."

"Why would-"

I swallow the words before they finish leaving my throat when a loud noise echoes through the district. It sounds like static that might sound from a broken reception from a broadcast on the television. Haymitch, Gale and Peeta jump to their feet as I struggle to my left, trying to keep balance. Prim and my mother come bustling in from the other room looking to us in confusion. Haymitch strides to the front door and shoves it open. That's when I hear the voice that haunts my dreams and chills my bones.

"Citizens of Panem," Snow's voice echoes through the town and causes me to tremble as it courses through my ears.

"We have been forgiving and merciful over the years. We provide each district with means to benefit all citizens of our country. However, you still defy our ruling and rebel against us. This is unacceptable.

"This year we celebrate the seventy-fifth annual Hunger Games with the Quarter Quell. Due to recent rebellion our districts are threatened. We must safeguard our futures. Therefore, all suspicious districts will participate in this years' Games.

"We do not wish bloodshed, but only those deemed worthy will survive. There will be no sponsors and there will be no training. If you survive, we will rebuild our futures with the knowledge of our mercy and compassion.

"You will find yourselves confronted with the horrors of your pasts. Happy Hunger Games, Panem, and may the odds be _ever_ in your favor."

The silence that falls through the air is thick with tension and dread. I feel dizzy and weak like someone is draining the blood from my veins. I hop my way towards the door not knowing whose hands are helping me. I see several large, metal containers fall from the fading blue sky and landing in the town center where the reaping is held. Prim looks horror-struck and nervous. My hand instantly reaches out for her.

The high, shrill screams in the distance cuts through me like a knife. That's when a loud _boom_ echoes through the air like a cannon, slightly shaking the ground like an earthquake.


End file.
